


dreams of you and mistletoe

by parchmints



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gift Giving, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parchmints/pseuds/parchmints
Summary: Lance is the world's best gift giver and this holiday, Keith is determined to one-up him.





	dreams of you and mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatnipPacket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatnipPacket/gifts).



> Happy Holidays! This is just a little something for a secret santa exchange between friends and lucky me I got [catnippackets](http://catnippackets.tumblr.com/)! Their prompt was "modern au pre-klance with Allura helping Keith look for a really nice gift for Lance and they're going around the mall trying to find something perfect to impress him and Keith's all nervous bc he wants Lance to be happy and Allura is all enthusiastic trying to help!! if there's a way to sneak hints of romellura in there too that'd be super cute ^^" so ahhhh I hope this hit everything you wanted! Happy holidays, Selena!!!
> 
> Title from "One More Sleep" by Leona Lewis :3
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy and I got some notes at the end about the gifts but I don't wanna spoil it!

_dreams of you and mistletoe_

 

It is a well-known fact amongst Keith’s friend group that Lance is the hardest person to get a gift for. And it’s not so much that it’s hard to find something Lance will like, it’s that his gifts are so freakin’ thoughtful that in comparison, everyone else’s gifts always look like they were picked at the last second. Last year, he got Keith a Boker Plus Wildcat Karambit knife and it was so beautiful that Keith nearly cried.

Keith had gotten Lance...socks.

Which, to his credit, had little cows on them and Lance’s face brightened as soon as he opened them, but well, there’s just no beating a Boker Plus Wildcat Karambit knife.

So, this year Keith is determined to get Lance a gift that’s at least _on par_ with whatever he’ll get from Lance.

“You should give up now, honestly,” Allura says as they walk down 4th street in the biting cold. “Lance might secretly be Santa Claus. I made one offhanded remark about my skin feeling dry last year and he redid my entire skincare routine until it was perfect. Look at my pores, Keith. Look at them.”

“Uh...where?”

“ _Exactly_!”

“I don’t care, Allura. I’m going to find him the perfect gift if it kills me.”

Allura shrugs under her giant, pastel pink peacoat and adjusts her white scarf closer to her neck.

“It’s gonna be a long day,” she sighs.

“Come on, you’re the best gift giver I know—besides Lance—and you need to find something for Romelle anyway.”

“I never said I wouldn’t do it, but mark my words, we’re going to be drowning our sorrows in eggnog before they even light the trees for the night.”

 

Allura’s first potential gift idea is clothes. They jump from shop to shop with Allura enthusiastically pointing out blue jean jackets and soft-knit sweaters she says will bring out Lance’s eyes. And it’s _fine_ , but it’s not _right_.

“Oh, look, Keith! Don’t you think he’d look good in a turtleneck?” Allura asks.

And yes, he does think Lance would look good in a turtleneck. Lance looks good in everything.

However. “It’s nice, Allura, but it feels...I dunno, like something your mom would get you.”

“Oh,” Allura says, putting the blue turtleneck back on the rack. “Hm hm hm. Maybe we move on from clothes?”

Keith nods and they’re out the door.

 

They meander into a couple shops along 4th street—a niche, hipster strip of family-owned businesses—and hope for inspiration to find them. There are more thrift stores than they can count, an interesting new age store filled with handmade jewelry that attracts different kinds of energy to its wearer, and a coffee shop-used bookstore hybrid on the corner that Allura promises they can revisit once they get tired.

4th street is busier than usual with all the holiday shoppers and the added traffic of college kids home for winter break. The crisp end-of-autumn air makes Keith’s nose and cheeks rush with blood as the clouds above tease snow. Keith isn’t much of a winter person, especially since he was raised in the desert, but he does like the peaceful bustling of 4th street around winter solstice time. Everyone is in scarves and gloves, holding hot drinks and colorful bags, and there’s a quiet buzz of happiness that fills the streets as brightly as the holiday lights twinkle from the lamp posts.

It’s nice.

It would be nicer, he thinks, if Lance were here to hold his hand.

Keith pulls up his ratty, frayed scarf over his mouth and nose to shield them from the cold as he follows Allura into the next shop.

 

“Oh! I know!” Allura says, tugging on Keith’s sleeve. “There!”

She all but drags Keith into a shop with a smell so strong, it feels like he’s walking into a solid wall of aroma. An undistinguishable collection of scents hits Keith’s nose from floral to fruity to synthetic and he sneezes on the spot.

“What if you got him a total spa experience?!” Allura says, picking up a candle to match her lighted eyes. “Bath bomb, candles, face mask—he’d _love_ it.”

She pops open one of the three-wick candles and places it under Keith’s nose. Chocolate mint.

Keith stares at the candle and sucks in his bottom lip in thought. After a moment, he shakes his head. “You’re right. He’d love it.”

“But?”

“But _you_ should get it for him.”

Allura’s brows knit close together. “Keith, I’m here to help _you_.”

“I know, I know, but I think...I don’t think this is what I should get him. I can’t explain it.” Keith shrugs. “But really, you should. It’s a great idea.”

She cocks her head to one side, examining Keith’s face like it’s a book in a language she doesn’t know well until she nods. “Alright. Help me find a good candle.”

 

They settle on a candle called “Oceanside Sea Salt” because they think it’ll remind Lance of home, a lavender bath bomb, and a cucumber and aloe face mask. If nothing else, Keith is happy Lance will at least get _one_ good gift this year.

They continue their trek along 4th street, Keith holding Allura’s bag of gifts for Lance, when she stops dead to look into a shop window.

She stares intently at a display case, her eyes zeroed in but hazy, like the object there has her hypnotized. Keith steps up beside her and follows her gaze to a delicate gold necklace with a petite pink stone dangling from the display neck. It’s small and classy, but it’s not until Keith sees the price tag that he realizes just _how_ classy it is.

“Pink sapphire,” Allura says, eyes glued to the piece of jewelry.

Keith looks from the necklace back to her. “It’s kind of a lot.”

“You think so?”

“Five hundred is pretty steep.”

Allura blinks. “I—yes, I guess it is. Perhaps...something that expensive would come off as desperate.”

“No, no! Sure, it’s, uh, kind of a grand gesture but I—I mean, if you have the _money_ —”

Allura’s gaze finally breaks from the pink stone and she starts walking again, her back to Keith. “Come on, Lance’s gift won’t find itself.”

Keith mumbles to himself, “Romelle’s won’t either.”

“Oh oh oh!” Allura says pointing down at the only chain store on the entire street. “What about this?”

“Video games?”

“Yes! I was thinking about why you weren’t really feeling any of my ideas, and then I realized it’s because they were all things _I_ would get Lance and not you. Lance and I like shopping for clothes and skincare, but you _don’t_. But! You enjoy playing video games together, so it’ll feel more organic. It’s a gift that’s more true to your relationship.”

“Right,” Keith says and something cold and hard condenses in his chest. “We can try that, yeah.”

Allura beams and she all but skips into the store.

This time, Allura’s the one that follows Keith around, her head constantly looking over his shoulder to see if any of the games are catching his eye.

None of them are, but Keith doesn’t want to tell her since she was so excited. Sure, Gilded Knife 5 and CaughterBomb both just got released and Lance has been dying to play both of them, but once again, Keith is left feeling that it’s not what he wants to give Lance. Not this year.

So, Keith lies. “I don’t think there’s anything new out that he really wants.”

Disappointment flicks on Allura’s face for a second before she shrugs. “Alright, then. Onward.”

They drift in and out of a couple specialty stores, but it only takes moments to know there’s nothing for Lance in them.

It’s after they exit a store made entirely of signs with cheesy sayings that Allura lets out an exhausted sigh.

“Okay! We need a break. I’m fresh out of ideas and I simply won’t have any more until I have some hot cocoa with red and green sprinkles in my system.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but he agrees. “It’s what Lance would want.”

 

So, they get some hot cocoa with some damn red and green sprinkles. Allura’s hands cup her mug as she brings it to her smiling lips. She takes a drink and when she pulls away, whipped cream lines her top lip like a white mustache. Keith laughs at her and she blinks at him like an owl until she realizes it’s all over her face.

She laughs at herself, eyes swallowed by her risen cheeks, and wipes the whipped cream off with a napkin.

It’s a sweet, happy sound—Allura’s laughter—and, madly, it reminds Keith of Lance. It reminds him how desperately he chases Lance’s smile, how even a simple chuckle will fuel Keith for the next few days. It reminds him how much he wants Lance’s gift this year to be perfect, how much he wants it to brighten Lance’s face and for him to look at Keith (and only Keith) with his dark blue eyes and electric smile, and sincerely offer his thanks. It reminds Keith of his feelings.

And they’re such selfish feelings.

“Keith?” Keith looks up from the melting whipped cream in his mug and lifts his head to see Allura looking at him with her head tilted and eyebrows worried. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Sorry, I just...spaced out.”

Allura’s lips tuck inward as she examines Keith and she leans back in her chair. “You’re worried about his gift, aren’t you?”

Keith shrugs.

“We’ll find something.”

Keith looks back at his melting whipped cream and sips his hot cocoa.

“I’ve never seen you so... _serious_ about gift giving before. Why’s this year so important?” Allura asks.

Why _is_ this year so important? Nothing special has happened—no life-changing revelation, no grand gesture he feels obligated to fulfill, no promise made.

He just...he just…

“I just want to make him as happy as he—” Keith stops short. He can’t finish the end of that sentence without some horrible, scary truth spilling out of him. And he’s not quite ready to do that in the middle of a cramped coffee shop-bookstore.

“Oh, Keith,” Allura says, her hand extending across the table for his, but his arms are tightly wrapped around himself and out of reach. “The fact that you’re trying so hard will move him deeply, I’m sure. You and I both know Lance is the type of person who really does think it’s the thought that counts. I know you want to get him something he’ll really like, but...as long as it comes from you, he’ll love it.”

Keith takes a moment to close his eyes, to keep his emotions in check so they don’t tip over and make a mess. The longer he’s known Lance, the more he feels like he’s walking a dangerous tightrope where the act of falling means exposure, vulnerability, being _seen_. His emotions are something he guards closely, too scared to show to the world, but Lance…

Lance has a way of distracting the guards and sneaking in any way.

It’s infuriating.

“I know,” he says, because he does. Lance will love whatever he gets him. Still, it’s a defeat. Keith could get something Lance will like and he’ll be happy, but it won’t be _perfect_.  Keith wants it to be perfect.

“You care for him a great deal,” Allura says. It’s not a question, but a probe. Keith shies away from it and stares at a bookshelf.

Allura hums, leaning back against her chair and mirroring Keith’s slumped, defensive posture.

“You know, Keith, I think we’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve been looking for gifts for Lance from my perspective. From the perspective of a friend or a sibling or something, but you? You’re neither of those things, are you?”

Keith’s spine straightens without his permission and there’s a twitch in his leg that’s begging him to run, to flee from this conversation.

Allura raises her hands in surrender. “We don’t have to talk about it. But I just think—if you want to find Lance the perfect gift, then you’re going to have to get him something that doesn’t hide how you feel about him. Whatever you buy, you need to let the part of you that cares for him—however you care for him—shine through.”

Keith relaxes, if only a smidge, and he takes a breath, looking down at the now disintegrated whipped cream.

Maybe. Maybe there’s something to what Allura is saying.

And it hits him.

Of course. _Of course._

Keith slams his palms against the little cafe table, lifting himself from his chair so fast that an onlooker would wonder if it burned him.

“Keith?”

He doesn’t answer her. Instead, he grabs his coat off the back of his chair and hastily puts it on.

“ _Keith_?!”

“I know what I’m getting him!” Keith blurts, his arm getting stuck in his coat.

“Can’t we finish our cocoa?”

“Stay. I’m gonna get it by myself.” Keith’s coat is finally on and he plops his ratty beanie over his hair, heading for the door.

“Keith, wait—”

Before Allura can finish, Keith looks over his shoulder and says, “Allura.”

Allura’s eyes widen as a prompt.

“You should take your own advice. It’s good.”

She blinks at him, a little stunned, but there’s a thoughtful glint in her eye that makes Keith think she got the message.

And before there’s a chance for any more discussion, Keith is out the door and heading to the new age store down the street.

 

* * *

 

Allura’s holiday parties are always the event of the year, rivaled only by her Halloween and New Year’s parties. She lives in a fancy penthouse apartment in a fancy part of town and she always has good music, good party favors, and (usually) good company. Even Keith, an official introvert and party-hater, looks forward to them.

But not this year. This year, being in Allura’s apartment with all the lights and people and mischievously placed mistletoe has him sick to his stomach. Somewhere past Allura’s front door is Lance, undoubtedly wearing an ugly sweater and reindeer antlers, hoping for some cute girl to catch him under the mistletoe and waiting impatiently to unwrap his gifts.

It shouldn’t be this hard to open a door.

It’s possible that the slight weight in Keith’s right-hand pocket has a lot to do with it.

 _Okay_ , he thinks. _You’ve been to a hundred Allura Parties. You can do this. Just open the door._

He takes one big inhale, puffing his chest, and raises his arm when—

“KEITH!”

“Keith is here!”

“Oh my god, Keith?! I _love_ Keith!”

The door gets opened for him and he’s greeted by a drunk Shiro and a less drunk Adam, plus a chorus of drunk voices echoing his name. Keith rolls his eyes. Everyone has a good time at an Allura party.

“Keith!” Shiro says again, his cheeks flushed as he leans on his fiance. “We’re out of beer!”

“I’m...sorry?”

Shiro suddenly gets very serious and breaks away from Adam, dropping his prosthetic hand on one of Keith’s shoulders while his flesh hand jabs a finger into Keith’s chest.

“You listen to me,” Shiro says, slowly, deliberately. “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for.”

Shiro brings his palms to Keith’s cheeks and squishes them, making his lips jut out uncomfortably.

“Ser-wo?” Keith asks, gently trying to get out of Shiro’s grasp.

“Keith, listen!”

Keith listens.

“Keith, are you listening?”

Keith rolls his eyes and nods in Shiro’s grip.

“You are an amazing little butterfly of a person and I love you so much and you are my brother and I love you.”

God, Keith hates drunk Shiro.

Mercifully, Adam shakes Shiro off of him and Keith rubs at his sore cheeks.

“C’mon babe, let’s stop mortifying your little brother in front of all his friends.”

“Aww babe! You called me babe.”

“Shiro, we’re getting married.”

“We’re getting married!” Shiro says like it’s the first time he’s ever heard it.

“But first, we’re getting beer.”

“We’re getting beer!”

Then, like two bumbling thieves in the night, they’re gone and Keith is left alone in front of the open door.

There’s at least twenty people inside, laughing and singing along to some pop version of Santa Baby, and Keith feels himself shrink. He can handle any horror movie you throw at him or the world’s scariest roller coaster without so much as getting nervous, but this has his stomach in all kinds of knots.

But Keith Kogane is no coward, so he steps inside.

Not even a second after he shucks off his coat, a huge arm wraps around his neck.

“Keith! You made it! I made gingerbread cookies, do you wanna try?” Hunk asks, shoving an intricately decorated gingerbread man in Keith’s hands.

Never one to turn down Hunk’s baking, Keith takes a bite and melts. “‘S’really good.”

“Thanks, man!”

Hunk puts his hands on his hips, his yellow sweater brighter than the sun and rivaled only by his huge grin. Keith likes Hunk. He’s genuine and fun and easy to be around. Honestly, he could forget this whole thing and just hang out with him the whole night and have a nice, stress-free time.

_You’re no coward, Kogane._

Keith exhales and looks up at Hunk. “You seen Lance?”

“Hmm, it’s been a minute. I think last time I saw him he was dancing by the tree.”

“‘R’anks,” Keith says through another bite of cookie and braves the sea of ugly-sweatered college students talking and dancing in Allura’s excessively expansive living room. The star on Allura’s tree acts as his guiding light as he pushes past people, mumbling multiple “excuse me”s as he goes, his eyes peeled for any sight of Lance.

There’s got to be some twenty odd people crammed in this apartment and Keith bumps into damn near all of them except for the one person he wants to bump into the most. He gets to the tree though, which is where the guests have decided to make space for a dance floor. Looking around for a glimpse of brown hair and skin, Keith’s eyes instead zero in on a couple swaying to a sultry rendition of _I’ll be Home for Christmas—_ Allura and Romelle. They’re pressed against each other, Allura’s arms resting on Romelle’s shoulders as their foreheads touch lightly and they step slowly back and forth, not really in time with the music. Their eyes are closed and they both wear sweet, serene smiles that feel far too intimate for Keith to be a part of, despite how chaste it is. He looks away, but not before noticing the tiny pink sapphire necklace dangling from Romelle’s neck. Keith smiles to himself and continues his search.

As soon as Keith moves away from the makeshift dance floor, he crashes into someone hard enough to knock them both over, but the hands that grip him at his biceps steady him.

Keith blinks and looks up, only to see a pair of dark blue eyes staring at him with an amused smile.

“Watch where you’re going, Mullet. You’re gonna damage the goods.”

Keith rolls his eyes, takes a step back, and prods a finger into Lance’s chest while he ignores the fluttering in his own. Lance is wearing a blue turtleneck sweater that matches his eyes and it’s...nice. He looks nice. “If the goods are that fragile, then they’re probably not worth much.”

Lance gives him a mock-offended look—eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, and mouth agape—and places his hands on his hips.

“I’m a luxury few can afford, Keith. _You_ just have bad taste.”

Keith laughs at himself and says, “you’re only half right.”

“Whatever,” Lance says with a casual wave. “Where’ve you been? I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

Keith tenses under the question. In truth, getting himself up off the couch to Allura’s apartment building had been a testament to his own bravery. It would have been so easy to stay in, curl up on the couch wrapped in a blanket with Kosmo at his feet, but the little black box on the counter wouldn’t stop mocking him.

So, he came. If not fashionably late.

“Yeah, sorry. You...you know how I am about parties.”

Lance places a warm hand on Keith’s shoulder and gives him an even warmer smile. There’s a leap in Keith’s pulse he wills to settle.

“Aw, I know, Keith, but these are the times...we only get so many of them, y’know? It should be spent with people you love. I’m glad you made it, man.”

Keith’s chest swells like a hot air balloon and he returns Lance’s smile, though he doubts it’s anywhere near as dazzling. “How do you manage to go from total asshat to complete sap in five seconds flat?”

Lance takes his hand away with a little shove and scoffs at Keith.

“I think you meant to ask how I maintain being such a lovable scamp all the time and let me tell you, it ain’t easy.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

“Do you want your present or do you just want to keep giving me a hard time?”  

Keith blinks. “My present?”

“In all the years I’ve known you, have I ever _not_ gotten you a Christmas present?” Lance asks.

“I—” Keith cuts himself off by biting his own lip. If he tells Lance he has a gift for him too, there’s no backing out of it. Once he says it, he can’t take it back.

And that? That’s terrifying.

 _You are_ not _a coward, Kogane_. _You’re not._

Keith takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself for war and says, “Yeah, I—I have yours too.”

Lance looks him over with studious eyes, like he’s realized something’s off and he’ll find the answers somewhere in Keith’s grey pullover, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Wanna get some air? It’s kind of crowded in here.”

Ah. Lance thinks it’s the hoard of people that has Keith nervous and in true Lance fashion, he’s doing his best to make him comfortable. It’s stupid and endearing and it has Keith’s heart melting in his chest like it’s made of wax.

It also makes him braver.

Keith nods. “That sounds great.”

“Cool. Why don’t you meet me out front and I’ll be there in a sec?”

“Sure.”

Lance flashes him a quick grin before he darts into the crowd towards the bedrooms and Keith heads back to the door. He throws his coat back on along with his holey beanie and tattered scarf.

The box, still hidden safe in Keith’s pant pocket, _burns_.

He steps out of the apartment and waits for Lance, rocking on his feet and stroking the smooth wrapping paper around the box with his thumb.

_I hope he likes it…_

He not only hopes it, he wishes it with his whole heart, and he’s torn between anxious anticipation and all-consuming dread. On one hand, he just wants to shove the present in Lance’s palms and be done with it, but on the other, he fears the likely rejection and subsequent awkwardness between them once he does.

_No going back._

He’s mercifully saved from spiraling further as Lance steps into the hall donning his black coat and a blue scarf that makes his skin almost glow in contrast. Keith swallows. Exactly how long has it been this easy for Keith to become so undone over him?

“Ready?” Lance asks, a lumpy, but colorful package in his hands.

Keith smiles at the present and it reminds him just how kind Lance is, and once again, his fears are assuaged, if only a little.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

Lance leads them up a flight of stairs that takes them to the penthouse’s roof—a small outdoor area with a few lamp posts, benches, and shrubbery that acts as a makeshift backyard for the more prestigious residents. It’s probably pretty and well kept in the warmer months, but now, it’s just indistinguishable shapes covered in powdery snow.

Snow crunches beneath their feet as they walk to a lamp post in the center of the garden, hands in their pockets and shoulders hoisted up to their ears.

“Cold,” Lance says, his breath visible.

“Better than inside. It was stuffy.”

Lance rolls his eyes at him. “You were there for a total of two minutes.”

“Hey, the roof was your idea,” Keith says and when Lance doesn’t send a retort back right away, he knows he’s won.

“ _That’s_ because I’m such a good, self-sacrificing friend. Just want you to be comfortable, sweetheart.”

Keith narrows his eyes at him as they stop underneath the lamp post, the soft orange glow lighting up Lance’s teasing smile in a way that Keith can only characterize as “unfair”.

“You’re half a second away from not getting your present at all.”

“Aw, c’mon, _Keeeith_!” Lance whines, shaking Keith by his biceps. “Whadjya get me whadjya get me whadjya get me?”

“ _Coal_.”

“ _Keeeeeith!”_

Keith laughs and shakes his head. “No, I—I want to go second.”

“Ooh, that good, huh?”

“Yeah, that good,” Keith says with a confidence he doesn’t feel. Going second is a tactical choice; he knows whatever Lance got him will make handing over his gift easier.

Lance untucks the gift from where it was nestled in his armpit and hands it to Keith, his smile widening. “Happy Holidays, buddy!”

The corners of Keith’s lips twitch as he grabs the egg-shaped package, something clearly soft inside. He rips off the paper with ease and in his fingers is a sea of red wool. He holds out the gift for closer inspection—it’s a hand-knit scarf with matching beanie.

“I made them!” Lance says, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Yours are on their last legs, dude, and you _seriously_ need a pop of color in your wardrobe and I know you like red so…”

Keith _does_ like red and Lance even knows the right shade; the wool isn’t a bright, fire-truck red, but a more subdued cherry color that won’t make him feel like a stop light.

“You made this?” Keith whispers, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern of purl and knit stitches. The wool is soft and warm and it’s making Keith’s heart beat wildly in his chest.

“It took me forever, man. I kept dropping stitches and I had to start the whole row over again. It was a nightmare.”

“Did you do knit something for _everyone_?”

Lance stills, his eyes widening like he’s just been caught shoplifting. “No, I–” he starts, face darkening under the soft light. “I didn’t. Just, um, just you.”

Keith’s heart rate screeches to a halt and he worries it just might implode from the way Lance is looking at him—eyes lidded and scared. Soft, but alive. Keith’s mouth goes dry.

“Well, put ‘em on, Mullet!” Lance says, breaking the tension as he snatches Keith’s old beanie and uncoils his ratty scarf from his neck. “Here, I’ll—”

He closes his mouth, shoving Keith’s old accessories into the crook of his elbow before grabbing the red beanie and sliding it over Keith’s hair. He takes the scarf next and with a gentle precision, wraps it around Keith’s neck.

And Keith is glad his neck is getting covered because he can feel it getting redder and redder the longer Lance is so close to him.

“There,” Lance says, looping the scarf around Keith’s neck one last time, his hands still clutching either end of it. “You’re ready for the Green Day concert. Comfy?”

Keith nods, but only just and he can’t help but be hyper aware that Lance hasn’t stepped away yet.

“It’s warm,” he breathes, feeling weak and wanting to bury his face in his new scarf in hopes that Lance won’t see the blooming blush in his cheeks.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Oh,” Lance says, and he seems closer now, his eyes bigger than they were before.

And he looks like he wants to say something but it feels out of place—this is the moment Lance is supposed to brag, supposed to boast about what an excellent gift giver he is, yet he’s not. He’s serious, his fingers still tangled in the scarf, and his mouth is the smallest bit ajar, like whatever he wants to say is on the tip of his tongue.

“Lance?” Keith asks in the smallest of voices.

“Keith, do you—” he starts, before biting at his lower lip and looking away. Keith stays silent, his breath stopped, and waits for the end of the sentence. “Would you ever—”

But he stops short again, his eyes catching on something above Keith’s head and his gaze turns upward.

Keith follows his line of sight, and he sees small specks gently floating through the air, the light of the lamp post catching them as they fall.

“It’s snowing,” Lance says and the way he says it is so sweet and full of wonder, Keith has to look at him to see what kind of face he’s making.

He’s not disappointed. Lance’s eyes _sparkle_ and his smile is genuine, full of unbridled joy.

It strikes Keith then, what an odd sort of thing attraction is. The first day he ever met Lance, he thought he was cute, but as he got to know him, as _Lance_ got to know _Keith_ , Keith stopped thinking that. Now, Keith thinks he’s the most beautiful person in the world.

And when Lance closes his eyes and lets the snowflakes gently land on his cheeks, peppering his skin along with his freckles, Keith doesn’t just think it, he _knows_ it.

“Lance,” he says, the word falling out of his mouth unbidden. Lance, still smiling, lowers his head so that they’re eye level once again. Keith inhales, the cold air burning his throat and he takes the small package out of his coat. “I want to—here.”

He offers the tiny present to him and Lance takes it so carefully that it’s like he’s holding the world’s thinnest sheet of glass in his hands.

“It’s small,” Lance says, not in judgement, but curiosity, and Keith can tell he has no idea what’s inside.  

“You gonna stare at it or are you gonna open it?” Keith asks, once again faking confidence. Lance sticks his tongue out in response, but his eyes drift down to the tiny package in his hands and he rips off the wrapping.

As the little black velvet box reveals itself, Keith stops breathing again, his eyes set on Lance’s face, waiting for a reaction.

Lance almost looks nervous, like the contents of the box could mean the end of the world with the way he’s staring so intently at it. His free hand inches its way to the box and at an agonizing pace, Lance opens it.

Keith’s heart is beating so erratically that if he were to be hooked up to a monitor, he’s sure his heart rate would look more like the seismograph to a magnitude 9.0 earthquake than a pulse.

Lance blinks at the treasure inside the box, stunned, his face darkening in a blush.

“Y-you got me a ring?” Lance asks, finally tearing his eyes away from the silver ring to look at Keith.

Keith’s face instantly flushes at the attention and his shoulders rise to his ears again.

“It’s—it’s not just _any_ ring. It, um, it’s like a charm, so like—” Keith takes the box to point out the details of the ring—a thick silver band with a line of rose quartz crystals imbedded along the center length and then another line just to the left that’s pure red. “It’s meant to attract love to you, whether that’s platonic, familial, or um, romantic. Doesn’t matter. That’s what the pink crystal does, at least, and then the red line...that uh—”

He stops, but Lance keeps looking at him, waiting, and Keith swallows his fear. “That has to do with who gave it to you,” Keith says, voice shaking. “It’s like...the red string of fate, so if—if your heart is um, _open_ you wear the red line outwards, but if the person who gave it to you has your heart, then you wear it with the red line towards you. E-either way the relationship should flourish. I got it at this store where this lady makes rings with different powers and stuff and I just thought, y’know—”

“Keith,” Lance says, too gentle, too soft, as he takes the box back. He holds the box close to his chest and his eyes are glimmering with an emotion Keith doesn’t have a name for. “Which way should I put it on?”

Keith’s heart leaps to his throat and his palms sweat underneath his fingerless gloves. They stare at each other for a long moment, snow gathering along their shoulders and in their exposed hair, and Keith knows this is where the illusion shatters, where the precipice of knowing and not knowing finally meet and they’re about to be on the other side, whether they want to be or not.

Keith closes his eyes, and lets himself have just a second or two more in the before as he heads to the after.

And when he opens his eyes and meets Lance’s, he says, “It’s up to you, Lance. I know—I know what I’ll hope you do, but I also know that you’re important to me and that I always want to be a part of your life in...in any way you’ll let me, so—”

And Lance _beams_ , his smile so bright it’s probably taking wattage from the lamp post, and Keith’s words die in his throat.

Lance brings his attention back to the ring and he plucks it out, tucking the box away in his coat pocket.

“Inwards meant your heart was taken, right?” he asks, the ring hovering around his right ring finger. Keith nods, his throat too tight to speak. Lance shrugs, a mischievous grin decorating his face. “I mean, it’s more like it was stolen, but semantics, am I right?”

And Lance places the ring on his finger—the red stripe towards him. Keith swears he’s falling.

But when Lance takes a couple steps forward, takes both of Keith’s hands in his, he feels steady again, rooted.

“Do you—I mean, you don’t have to— _really_?” Keith asks, his words a stuttering, jumbled mess.

Lance’s face is dreamy and pleased as he graces Keith with a smile that’s too fond to be legal as he nods. “For _so_ long, Keith.”

Keith blinks, stunned. He’s processing this poorly and his mind refuses to kickstart despite desperately needing to address this.

Finally, his mind supplies a simple, “me too.”

Lance lets out a relieved laugh and then looks to the sky before back down to Keith’s face. “Uh oh,” he says, pointing up. “Mistletoe.”

Keith’s one working brain cell works overtime as he follows Lance’s finger, despite him _knowing_ there can’t be mistletoe there.

He looks back at Lance, horribly confused and says, “no there’s not.”

Lance’s face melts into a deadpan that could rival Jim’s from The Office. “Are you sure? I think there is.”

“Lance, we’re outside. There’s no mistletoe.”

Lance gives him another Jim look, but when Keith just stares back in oblivious confusion, he lets out an exasperated sigh and grips Keith by his new scarf, tugging him closer.

“What if we _pretend_ there’s mistletoe,” he says, voice hushed and sultry.

And Keith’s one last working brain cell dies. Goodbye. Rest in peace. See you on the other side.

Because _oh._

“Oh,” Keith says, functioning again by some Christmas miracle. “Oh, you mean _that_ mistletoe. Sorry, I—I couldn’t see it because of all of the snow.”

Lance’s smirk reappears and his eyes lid. “Well, now that you’ve seen it—can’t go breaking tradition now can we?”

“No,” Keith says, his own voice hoarse. “I guess we can’t.”

And Lance gets closer, so close that his freckles start to blur and mingle with his skin and Keith forgets that he’s in twenty degree weather because his skin is _burning_. He’s so close, their frozen breath starts to mingle in the space between them until—

Until there’s no more space between them.

Keith kisses him, slow and easy, soft and sure. His hands grip low at Lance’s jacket, tugging him closer as Lance pulls him by the scarf until they’re impossibly intertwined, melting into each other’s warmth. Lance’s lips are pliant and sweet against his, a dizzyingly addictive sensation that just gets more overwhelming when he brushes his tongue along Keith’s lip.

Lance’s palm moves to Keith’s jaw and he can feel the smooth metal of the ring against his cheek, sending a flurry of butterflies into his chest, a blizzard really. Lance’s thumb traces Keith’s jaw, feels it move up and down with each fervent motion of their kiss and _god_ , how the hell is Keith supposed to go to work in the morning when he knows he could be kissing Lance _instead_?

When Lance pulls away with a soft _smack_ between their lips, Keith _whines_ because he misses the contact so much. He is well and truly down the rabbit hole.

In response, Lance gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “We should get inside,” he says.

Keith must make some sort of distasteful look because Lance laughs and kisses his cheek again.

“Y’know, that stairwell we took up here looked _awfully_ private,” Lance continues and if Keith were a dog, his ears would have perked up.

Keith gives Lance an easy smile and says, “I wouldn’t mind paying it a visit.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Lance says, intertwining his fingers with Keith’s like it’s their thousandth time doing it and not the first.

As they walk back towards the garden’s entrance, hand in hand, Keith can’t help but ask, “so, did you like your present?”

The question stops Lance in his tracks and he gives Keith’s hand a good yank to close the distance between them to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “It’s perfect.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you had fun :)
> 
> Quick thing on the ring—I made that up but it was based on the claddagh ring which, depending on how you wear it, indicates your relationship status. Rose Quartz is a crystal that's supposed to attract love and the red string of fate is an old Japanese legend that says everyone has a red string tied to their pinky to their soulmate so hopefully the gift made sense lmao. 
> 
> Other than that, I always really appreciate your comments and kudos! Let me know what you thought and hopefully I can get more klance out to you soon :)
> 
> Links: [Tumblr](http://parchmints.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/parchmints) | [caard](https://parchmints.carrd.co/) | [my klance fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=276512&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=parchmints)


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